


Hogwarts AU

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [153]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter AU, IE Sam is in the Harry Potter universe, see notes for universe background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester gets his letter the summer just after his eleventh birthday, just like every other wizard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another verse from Tumblr.
> 
> Warnings: Sam is inserted into the Harry Potter verse, so the actions of the book (torture and violence and war) apply.
> 
> Verse background:  
> So, in 1983, a Death Eater/Death Eater sympathizer killed Mary, probably for being a Campbell (pureblood) and marrying a Muggle. Just kind of an example killing, one of those last vestige attacks after the first war.
> 
> John saw the aftermath–the bright light, the dead body with no marks–and didn’t handle it well. He started telling himself stories to explain what happened, and he settled on demons.
> 
> So he raises his sons as in the show, only the supernatural aren’t real, it’s basically running around and fear and survival training.
> 
> Sam gets a letter when he turns eleven. Dean and John are less than happy because 1.) sam is abandoning the family mission and 2.) it’s obvious these people do their magic using demon magic, and Sam is playing straight into their hands.
> 
> Sam is a Slytherin. That is always my Sam headcanon.
> 
> At school, Sam finds out he’s not Muggle born, but he’s actually the son of Mary Campbell, the pureblood daughter who walked away to marry a Muggle she fell for.
> 
> (If he dug further, he might find out that John Winchester’s biological father, Henry Winchester, was also a wizard. He was muggle born, but he was Ravenclaw, and a headboy in his day. He actually died in the war against Grindelwald. And his son was raised knowing nothing about magic, whether because John’s mother legitimately didn’t know, or because she thought John, who showed no magical abilities, would be safer without knowing. But he doesn’t dig, because he has no reason to think it’s there, and blood status obsession disgusts Sam anyways).
> 
> Sam fights in the Battle of Hogwarts. Slytherin cunning, Muggle thinking, ability to use what he has, and magical ability not only gets him through but makes a huge dent in enemy forces.

Sam settles into his seat. He’s spent too many years with his Dad to be restless, he knows fidgeting is a sign of weakness, but all he wants to do is let his body move in the way it wants. He’s nervous.

All the other kids, the little Gryffindors who pretend their too brave for this type of thing, the Slytherins who pretend they’re too refined, fidget. Sam’s never been aloud to be like the other kids. Some part of him thought of Hogwarts as starting over, a chance to find real peers and be one of them, but apparently some habits are hard to break.

When Professor Moody walks in, the electric blue eye focuses hard on Sam for a second. Sam can’t be sure–the guy is more than a little hard to read–but Sam thinks the look is approving. He straightens up further in his seat, picks up his unfamiliar quill, and prepares to take notes.

Moody is intense. So intense he seems convinced that there’s a threat lurking around every corner, someone waiting to do them in, and it’s a mindset Sam knows full well. Only this time, it may be real. After all, no matter what people may be saying about Moody–and Sam’s heard plenty, around the table in the Great Hall and in the Common Room–Albus Dumbledore is too good a Headmaster to hire a delusional man. Sam’s read about him, and he knows that much. Which means while John’s quest was mostly in his own head, demons made real so John Winchester could fight them, this one is real.

Sam’s real good at being careful. At being prepared. At understanding, as Professor Moody calls it, constant vigilance. It’s in his blood, maybe, beaten into his bones.

After the lecture, Moody switches to telling them all about curses and counter curses, basic defensive magic, he calls it. Nothing they’ll be practicing for weeks yet, months maybe, but they _need_  to know, because they need to be vigilant. Sam takes a whole parchment roll of notes that class.

Finally, Moody lets them go. Sam’s left gaping, practically on the edge of his seat, because that can’t be it. There has to be _more_. 

Of course there was more. He has another class, Transfiguration, in ten minutes. But it’s hard to let his brain come down from defense mode.

He puts his things away, but Moody hobbles over to his desk. “Winchester,” he says in that same scratchy voice. “Got a minute?”

Sam doesn’t, really, because he still has no idea how to get to Transfiguration and he’s heard McGonagall is strict, but he nods. “Yes, sir,” he says.

Moody looks him over again, eye unnervingly focused. “Don’t see many kids like you,” he says. “But you just might make it.”

Sam blinks. “Sorry, sir?”

Moody points a gnarled finger at him. “I know those eyes, boy,” he says. “That’s a fighter. That’s vigilance. Don’t you lose it, and we can make something out of you. Now scoot. Out of my classroom.”

It takes Sam a moment to sort that out and to actually manage to get out of the classroom. After that, he stumbles around lost, searching for Transfiguration.

But he wears a smile the whole time. Because maybe he can do this. Maybe he belongs here.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam’s a second year now, and second year means more magic, more responsibility, more chances to learn. All of which he would be very excited about, if he didn’t have bigger things to worry about.

Like Voldemort and the impending war.

He believes Potter. There’s no reason for him to lie like this, especially not now, not when it’s so obvious that there’s nothing to be gained from it, only more to be lost. He believes Dumbledore, too. Sam has little respect for authorities, but he does tend to trust them not to make things harder on themselves than need be. If Dumbledore is taking this kind of heat, then there’s a reason.

He’s spent all summer at a Muggle foster home of all places, worrying away his days when day after day of no news came. Oh, there was plenty of little things, but digs at Potter and assignations against Dumbledore aren’t _news_. Not what Sam needs to know, anyways.

But now he’s back to school. He’ll get the education he needs and the support he needs, and they’ll be ready.

And then there’s the ministry plant.

She looks like a toad but Sam is more concerned with her voice, sickly sweet, saccharine and deadly as it is, like it’ll lull you in and thens suffocate you. No, not suffocation, Sam thinks. This woman would go for poison, every time.

He has her in class two days later, and his opinions aren’t changed. She’s there because of the war, alright. Just not in the way they need.

She likes Slytherins. She talks to them after class, giving them a special message about how they should come to her if they hear anyone spreading “false stories designed to frighten schoolchildren such as yourselves.” 

She likes pureblood families. She looks at Sam hard and smiles big when she refers to him as “Oh, A Campbell, why, I know your Grandfather, and many of your cousins.” Sam’s blood boils a bit. He’s not a Campbell. He might not have been much of a Winchester but he’s not a Campbell, either. He doesn’t know them and he’s not going to be one just because it would make things easier, just because people like Umbridge might like him more.

Especially if people like her would like him more. Let him carry the Muggle name with pride. 

But worse than that, worse than the war-denying and the vitriol and the pure blood-based flattery, is that she refuses to teach them. When they need it most, when _Sam_ needs it most, she refuses flat-out.

He spends the class period not reading the stupid textbook, but of thinking of good ways to sneak into the restricted section. Because he has a lot of things to learn, and if she’s not going to help him, then he’ll just do it himself.


	3. Chapter 3

They use the Unforgivable Curses in class.

Sam knows what they are, he’s not an idiot, he knows how to read. He knows how Voldemort (don’t call him by that name anymore, even if the You-Know-Who thing always seemed ridiculous to Sam, calling him by his name now just leads to infinitely more trouble) and his followers use them, how they’re tortured and stolen and controlled and killed. He knows that Potter is the only survivor, that there’s no counter-curses, no blocks, only luck and chance and any skill to get the hell out of the way one might possess.

But he’s never seen them before. Not before this.

They curse a kid. He’s younger than Sam, small too, and Sam doesn’t know what he’s done, just knows the Carrows believe he’s done something worthy of this, and then she pulls back her wand and her face twists, and she shouts “ _Crucio!”_

The boy’s screaming doesn’t stop for ten minutes.

Two kids try to interfere, but the brother is right there, and they’re next. Even when the spell’s over, they’re left shaking trembling, whimpering, and Sam wonders on magical torture compared to muggle torture. He knows enough about that stuff. Knows the damage it can leave behind. Muscle damage and nerve damage and fried brain connections, because it looks like a long, concentrated, magical electrical shock that knocks through the whole body. 

And that’s just the physical damage. Sam’s seen how the mind takes hits, too.

This is _war_ , and this is a war crime, torture of children, and worse, it’s torture of children for sport. Sam was supposed to leave war behind, Hogwarts was supposed to be something new and fresh, something safe and something that would allow him to leave behind the war manufactured in his father’s head, the war John insisted Sam was born to fight.

But Sam never got to escape. War showed up on his new doorstep almost immediately, and he feels a flash of anger for all those people who didn’t believe Potter when he said Voldemort rose again, and look where their delaying, their mucking about, had led them now. Voldemort in their ministry. Voldemort in their school.

Unforgivable Curses cast on school children. No one’s died yet, but really, Sam thinks pessimistically that it’s only a matter of time. Besides, that only counts kids who haven’t died _in school_. There have been disappearances.

His mother saves him, the Campbell line he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know saving him from whatever tortures the Carrows and Snape can come up with. He’s a half blood. The son of the blood traitor, but a Campbell. That means something, still. Not enough to keep their eyes off of him, but enough to keep their wants off of him.

Others aren’t so lucky. They’re blood traitors, have questionable blood status, or have parents or siblings fighting the war. The wands turn on them. Anyone who tries to stop it just ends up next.

That includes Sam. He tries to sit by, to let it happen, to keep his nose clean, but he can’t. He steps in front of kids and unchains starving kids from the corridors. He heals wounds and defiantly refuses to lay his wand on anyone else in class. He takes his beatings, feels the fists and boots, curses and chains, and they call him an idiot.

Maybe he is, but he’s also learning. He’s saving his own soul in the process, can live with himself, and the other Slytherins who are quietly on his side can call that Gryffindor stupidity all they want, but Sam believes it. Besides, it has value. He’s learning.

Unforgivable Curses take determination. Purpose. Righteous anger isn’t enough. it takes some sort of _pleasure_ , really, and that is a sickening thought, to know the particularly painful bursts that set his nerves on fire and make him wish for death are because Alecto enjoys this. He tries to take less of those, lest they enjoy it enough he actually dies. He’s still not convinced that there can’t be permanent damage.

He watches. He observes. Even through the pain, he observes. And he learns.

And whenever this thing comes to a head, whenever the war gives him half a chance to _really_ fight, he’ll be ready. He’ll be ready to turn their own weapons against them.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam figures that if they don’t want students sneaking back in, they would have made it harder. It’s not like it takes much _effort_.

Then again, maybe that’s his Slytherin cunning coming through.

Still, he goes back. He’s not of age–fifteen just about now, soon enough–but it’s not like anyone would miss him. Dean and John didn’t need a wizard in the family. And he’s got a personal enough stake in this.

He’s not actually a Muggle-born, he’s learnt since he got to Hogwarts. Mary Campbell was a witch, even if she was a witch who walked away from it all for a Muggle family. But he had been raised a Muggle, come to Hogwarts as wide-eyed and frightened as any Muggle-born. He could have been them.

The Slytherins who cared about that sort of thing decided that his Campbell blood, even from _that_  Campbell, made him wizard enough to pass. Sam looked at them as disdainfully as ever. He’s the son of a paranoid, survivalist ex-soldier who raised his sons to see danger around every turn and, yes, a witch killed too soon, but that means the same as always. It doesn’t mean he’s part of their special club. 

Sam’s a Slytherin, the hat taking less than a minute to pull that out of him back when he was eleven. He doesn’t want to be ashamed of it, tried hard not to be. They’re not all bad. Hell, most of them aren’t bad at all. Scared, if they’re anything.

Sam needs to prove it. He needs to eradicate the bad, needs to know there’s no one left out there who thinks this sort of thing is okay.

Sam’s a good fighter. He can throw a punch where most wizards won’t bother, but he’s fast with a wand, too. Maybe not a fully qualified wizard–maybe not anywhere close–but he’s fast and determined and as long as he’s _smart_  about this–

He grew like a weed this past year, even with the constant fear. Maybe his height is how he manages to get back into the Great Hall without question. Maybe they need wands too much to care.

They’re moving out quickly, so Sam joins a random group and follows them carefully along.

He wonders what Harry Potter is doing. Sam doesn’t know him personally, but everyone knows Harry Potter. He hopes he has a plan. They’re all ready to lay down their lives, but it would be nice to know the sacrifice was worth something.

Sam checks his watch. Midnight. Voldemort’s deadline. And his birthday.

Then the attack happens. Sam moves off from his group, seeking higher ground, seeking any advantage he can get. He finds a window, a vantage point. He shoots curses with a sniper’s precision, and wonders if he should thank John for that.

He’s not often grateful to that man, but there is a sick burst of satisfaction with using a Muggle-derived skill against the Death Eaters.

He knows so many curses that a fifteen year old has no business knowing, but he thinks there is probably no better target than the people who wanted him to learn them for all the wrong reasons. His hands are steady even when he sees the affects of his work, his curses strong, but the Death Eaters and their numerous allies press forward. His fifteenth birthday may very well be his last.

Sam takes a deep breath and steadies his wand hand, reminds himself that he chose this, and picks his next target.


End file.
